We came upon this breed by chance. The farm we bought our American Milking Devons from raised them, and on a tour of the farm, we decided we would get a few when we came back to pick-up our cow/calf pair. The Wessex Saddlebacks (WS) is not only an old heritage breed, but a rare one. Almost extinct in their native England, there is a huge effort in Australia and New Zealand to preserve the breed. There is one farm, Flint Hill Farm, here is Missouri that is one of the few breeders in America. The WS are a hardy breed of pig. They do well foraging on pasture and were mainly bred for their excellent bacon and hams.

We decided to get 4 weanlings, 2 gilts (girls) and 2 boars (boys). With the help of my vet sister-in-law Kathleen, we castrated the boars ourselves, turning them into barrows. I don’t think we will do that again. One, it is stressful for all involved. Two, I am not sure if it necessary to get rid of the boar taste or “taint” as it is called. The next pigs we get, we will leave them intact and see what happens. Supposedly, raising them on a more pasture based system, which we are working towards, lessens the risk of taint. People with mature breeding boars have butchered with no problems. Third, it is a a lot of stress for me to do post-op care. I was constantly checking to make sure they were healing well. The incisions are pretty well healed up after a week, but a week of fretting over it is too much for me.

They found something good to eat!

We set the pigs up in a good sized paddock attached to our potbellies pen with a small house for them. I have never raised pigs before. Fred has experience with it, but I sort of took over the pigs at the beginning. I fed and watered them. I scratched them, picked off ticks, monitored their poops, check eyes, ears, and tails to make sure all was well. A pig with a curly tail and clear eyes is a happy pig. A straight tail and runny eyes means something is wrong. They got used to the daily checkups easily. As they got older, I would check them once or twice a week. I talked to them and watched them. I trained them to come when I clapped my hands repeatedly.

Before they grew too big, we moved them into a new pasture with an old pond. We ran 3 strands of electric wire around a large paddock that had big cedars and a walnut grove. They loved running about the trees and lounging in the pond. When there wasn’t much rain, Fred would take buckets of water down to make sure they had mud to cool down in. And even though it is frowned upon, I named them. Everyone says you shouldn’t name an animal you will eat. I think part of treating them with respect is acknowledging their individua

Dot, Big A, Princess, and DT

So, there is Dot,
Double Trouble (DT),
A-hole or Big A,
and Princess.

Dot is pretty obvious with the dot on her shoulder. Double Trouble, because he had the black and white double stripe on his shoulders. A-hole, because he is an a-hole to the others; always pushing and shoving. I never thought I would name anything Princess, but she was the first to let me scratch her, loved to be rubbed on and snuggle up to me.

Five months after we brought them home, it was time to butcher. We wanted to do it ourselves. Well, I wanted to do it ourselves. Just like with the chickens, I don’t like passing that task off to a stranger. However, with the new house, chickens left to butcher, fencing to be put up, and family commitments, it just wasn’t going to happen. After talking to and visiting a couple of processors, we chose one to use. We moved the trailer into the paddock and started feeding them in there. By the time the day rolled around, they went into the trailer easily. At the processor, I rubbed on Big A as we waited to unload. I started to cry a bit. It’s never easy. But I think if we had done it on the farm, in some way it would have been a bit easier.

I loved having the pigs. And next year we will get more. And next year we will butcher on the farm, that is for sure.

When we picked up our milk cows and pigs, the woman offered us a breeding pair of Silver Fox Rabbits. When I hesitated to answer, she offer the cages to go with them. How could I pass that up? I have been talking about getting rabbits for meat and fur for about a year. I got some hides from our friend’s dad (although I have yet to tan them) and want to use the fur to make different thing. Gloves, bags, jackets, blankets. I ate rabbit in France and loved it. So this seemed like the perfect opportunity. When I saw them, I knew what to name them…Carmen and Ernesto.

Since we were not planning on having rabbits, we weren’t set up for them. Luckily, the old goose house wasn’t being used and their cages fit perfectly. I was sent home with a pack of pellets, so food was taken care of. Their first morning, I picked a few handfuls of grass and clover for their breakfast and lunch. By the time dinner had rolled around, I had done a bit of research and found out not to give them clover because it gives them gas and they have no way to pass gas. UGH! Apparently, rabbits have a complex digestive system. Fiber is what they need most. So grasses and hay. Lots of stemy stuff helps keep their teeth naturally filed down. And the idea of a rabbit wreaking havoc on your garden isn’t quite true. While they will go in and eat around, they don’t usually eat a lot of fruits and veggies because it doesn’t have enough fiber and throws their digestive system into disarray. Don’t get me wrong, they will eat things they shouldn’t, just like us. But rabbits in the wild are able to control what they eat and when, and can stave off most digestive issues. Not so true for domesticated rabbits. Once a rabbit’s gut shuts down, death usually follows quite soon. Another interesting part of a rabbit’s system is hind gut fermentation. Since a rabbit’s diet is so high in fiber, sometimes they don’t get all the nutrients out of the plants. Whatever needs a bit more processing gets diverted to the hind gut, or the cecum. There it is mixed with lots of good bacteria, yeast, and other organisms that help break it down further into cecotropes. Cecotropes is a special kind of poop that is nutrient rich, so the rabbit eats it as soon as it is expelled. Yes, kind of yuck, but also quite ingenious. So if a rabbit does not get enough fiber to start with, they miss out on a lot of nutrients.

Now, when I feed them it is a mix of grasses, plantains (the broadleaf weed, not the banana like fruit), mint, dandelions, and chicory. While Carmen was more interested in pellets than fresh food, she figured out what she was missing and now cleans up her food as well as Ernesto does. Having them on a fresh diet isn’t easy. There are plenty of days you’ll hear me scream, “ARGH! THE RABBITS!” and see me hurriedly picking over the yard. And now, Carmen turns her nose up to pellets. When the chickens are out of the tractors, the rabbits go in. I alternate free range days between them and they seem to love being out and about.

Out on the pasture.

The plan is to start breeding these two and have our own rabbit meat, with the added bonus of hides/fur. But for right now, they are just living the good life.

When I was a little girl, my dad brought home a cage of quail chicks. I am not sure why he did, but I placed them on my toy shelf and cared for them. There was one that was small and got trampled by the others. I tried to make sure he got enough food and water so he could grow, but one day I checked in on them and he was dead. I was so sad and cried as I buried him in our yard. I felt like I had failed him, that I should have done more. Today I had those same feelings.

Yesterday, I found Pee-Wee on the floor of the coop sleeping. I thought maybe she had been picked on by the girls so much, she was just trying to stay safe and rest. I picked her up and put her on top of the coop in the shade for a few hours. Later, I moved her into the feed shed. She still didn’t want to do anything but sleep. I gave her some feed, but she couldn’t seem to find the food, pecking at the table. Even the rattle of the can didn’t perk her up. I took her home last night and made some hot oatmeal and she ate a bit. This morning there was no change. I made her drink and eat, but she still wouldn’t stand on her own and now she wouldn’t open her eyes.

I was torn between hoping she would snap out of it and ending her suffering. We had finished up butchering and I went to check in on her and she started flapping around. Before I could open the cage, she stood up tall, gasped, and fell over. I burst into tears as Fred tried to console me.

I have no idea what was wrong. Had she eaten something she shouldn’t have? A disease? But I think Fred’s explanation may be right…her tiny body just wasn’t made to live so long. Pee-Wee was one of the meat birds we saved. They are bred to grow and be butchered, not live a long life. If the hens don’t make weight by the last butchering, we keep them as layers. Pee-Wee was well below butchering weight, like a third of the weight of the others. I am not sure if it was because of her stunted growth, but she also wasn’t quite right in the head.

Her peculiar eating style.

She had a thing about eating…she wanted to eat out the bucket or can, not the ground or feeder. Not sure if that is why she never really grew. I heard of chickens having twisted beaks and a hard time eating, so I checked her out. No twist. So when it was time to eat, I would let her eat out of the can. When she was with the layers, I couldn’t put the can by the ground without everyone else trying to eat, so Pee-Wee started to jump on my lap to eat. Then she started to climb up my leg as soon as she saw the can. Our routine was for the other girls to get fed, then I would slap my knee, she would fly up to my bent knee, and I would put my arm under her for her to roost on while she ate. If I couldn’t do this with her, she would just walk around the food confused as to what to do. She would peck a bit, but not like the others.

Pee-Wee with her security team.

She was a sweet chicken; always wanting to be with me. When they were out roaming the farm, she’d be in my business, under foot, trying to get some love. When they moved into the chicken oasis, she would squeeze under the gate to come sit with me. It’s like she didn’t know she was a chicken. And when she got mad at me, she would let me know. Many a time did she walk right up to me, hop on my lap, peck me hard, jump off, and walk away. I would make it up to her with a little extra wheat at the end of the day and she would sit on my lap and snuggle. Her fellow meat birds didn’t pick on her, quite the opposite. The above picture was typical of how she would spend her days…surrounded by 3 birds. Never once did I see them pick on her, it was like they knew she was different.

The hard thing with chickens is that when they are sick, by the time they show signs, it’s usually too late. I know she had a good life, but the feeling that I failed her is still there. I guess it’s a good thing it hurts my heart so much. It confirms that I haven’t lost compassion for my animals. I think if the day comes that I am not saddened by the death of my animals (either accident or planned), that will be the day I will no longer keep them. For all the special treats and treatment Pee-Wee had in her life, and there were A LOT, she gave me a great year of companionship. Thank you, my sweet Pee-Wee.

As I sat watching Neckless fuss over her eggs, it was easy to let everything else leave my mind and focus on the beauty of what I was witness to. Most breeds have had the broodiness bred out of them. None of our Leghorns or Rhode Island Reds have shown the least bit of broodiness, but here was a Freedom Ranger, digging down deep into her DNA to do what she was meant to do.

And we wait…

A broody hen is something I have wanted for some time now. But for some reason, when I saw she was broody, all I could think of was how to break the habit. Then Fred reminded me that I WANTED a broody hen. So off I went to create the perfect broody box for her. After a bit of reading and asking around, I decided to get her out of the nest box and into a space she could be undisturbed. I found a cardboard box that would hold the nest and another I would put the first in for some extra privacy. I set Neckless up in a corner of our brooder house with her own hospital tray of feed and water. She is expecting after all!

And there she sat. Every other day, I would make sure she got off the nest, stretched her legs, and ate and drank. On hot days, I would leave her to have some extra time off the nest, but would check in to make sure she did get back on. What I had read most was to make sure they eat and drink, as they will stay on the nest neglecting their needs. Since they won’t get off, even to poop, I would check to make sure she pooped when off the nest. And after holding in a day of feed, she would expel some huge rank poops that were immediately toss out the brooder for fear of succumbing to the smell.

Neckless was a good broody. Left alone, she would get back on the nest. I loved watching her arrange the eggs under her. I loved watching her walk around and start to come out of her trance, shaking her head, ruffling and preening her feathers. After 20 days of her sitting and me fussing, it was time.

While I did chores for the other 100 chicks in the brooder house, I heard Neckless clucking and cooing. It was different than her regular “stop making noise and annoying me” cluck she usually gave me. So I HAD to find out if anyone had hatched. I tried to lure her out with food, but she wouldn’t come. So I carefully lifted her up and saw a little chick that must have just hatched since it was trying to stand. I didn’t want to upset anything, so I placed her gently back down and she started her cooing again.

Finally!!!

As of right now, I have seen over 500 day old chicks. But this…this was breathtaking and amazing. I couldn’t help but run out to find Fred and tell him the news. And truth be told, I was a bit teary eyed. Neckless sat for 20 days warming and turning these eggs, clucking to them, and knowing just when to stop fussing over them and let them hatch. With one hatched, she knew just how long to keep sitting for the others to hatch. And when they went past their time, she stopped sitting. Out of 7 eggs, 1 broke early on, 4 hatched, and 2 duds. The day after the first hatch, 3 others joined the family. The first chick hung out under Neckless’ wing while the others hatched down below. Then everyone snuggled down under momma for the day. On day 3, they were ready to get out and explore!

Momma calls for dinner and everyone is hungry.

I cut the nest box open so the chicks could get in and out easily and added a ramp. With momma watching over, the little ones started to explore. Soon, Neckless was making all kinds of sounds I had never heard. There was the call to come back to her. The call that there was food. The call to pay attention. Neckless would scratch and peck and drink, and the chicks would do the same. I ground up some wheat and sprinkled it about for them to find. When I first did this, I could have sworn Neckless gave me a look like “Why are you spoiling them?! They have to work for their food!”

First day out on the pasture.

It is interesting to watch Neckless teach the chicks all they are supposed to know and do. Like taking a dust bath, which plants to eat, and how to scratch around. And it is interesting to see the chicks different personalities. The all white one is the leader and most adventurous, and the lighter brown one is always getting left behind.

Lesson number 3…how to bathe.

Only one of the White Leghorn eggs hatched. The others were from Rhode Island Reds or Freedom Rangers. It will be interesting to see how they mix with Ron Rico, the Silver Dorking. All chicks have the Dorkings extra toe, but I will have to wait to see who gets the Dorkings short leggedness.

Looking for momma.

I doubt any of the other girls will go broody. I do hope that Neckless does again. If she does, I am going to put a lot more eggs under her. I don’t think I could ever tire of watching something so incredible.